


Unquiet Slumbers

by Mynsii



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/F, Heavy Angst, Marriage of Convenience, Tentative promise of a happy ending, Time Skips, Wuthering Heights AU, potential Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 00:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14964995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mynsii/pseuds/Mynsii
Summary: Bulma Briefs, heir to the inter-galactic Capsule Corp. empire, was ten years old when her father brought home the boy. “What is he?”"A Saiyan."It was not uncommon for her father to return from business trips with lavish presents, but they usually consisted of exotic sweets, beautiful clothes, or rare creatures to house in the menagerie. They didn't typically involve child-slaves. "Vegeta here was the prince of the Saiyans. After Lord Frieza destroyed their planet, he took the young prince as a slave. I bought him. For you.”//She wasn't supposed to start an affair with the wild alien child. She certainly wasn't supposed to fall in love with him.Bulma Briefs was never any good at following instructions.//Wuthering Heights. But in space.





	Unquiet Slumbers

**Author's Note:**

> A little passion project of mine that I've been quietly working on between 'City of Stars' and 'Imbroglio.'

Bulma Briefs, heir to the inter-galactic Capsule Corp. empire, was just ten years old when her father brought home the boy.

Her father had been gone for nearly two months, negotiating business deals on some distance planet that she’d forgotten the name of, and Bulma had been more than a little surprise when he’d returned home several weeks earlier than expected, a scrawny and surly child glued to his hip.

The boy was small, dark skinned with a crown of thick, black hair that almost seemed to glow red under the firelight sprouting from atop his head. His eyes were a frightening onyx, a deep hole of despair that you could tumble into if you wandered too close, and he was covered in a thin layer of grime and bruises. He stood there stiffly, a scowl fixed firmly on his tiny face, hands balled into fists at his side.

Doctor Briefs cleared his throat, gesturing at the child. “Bulma, this is Vegeta. He's going to be living with us from now on, okay?”

The immediate question of _‘why’_ burned away when the swish of something fuzzy caught Bulma's attention, and she peaked around her father to get a better look. “How old is he? What is he?” she asked, her head tilted curiously towards the boy’s tail.

“I’m not sure. The years on his home planet are a little shorter than our own, though I’d say he’s likely around your age, given what we know of his species. He’s a Saiyan,” Her father replied, pushing her towards the scowling child.

“Like Goku?” She asked, her thoughts flickering to her friend.

The Son boy was an orphan twice over, lucky enough to be adopted into a wealthy family when it came to pass that his mother would never have a child of her own, unlucky enough to suffer the loss of two sets of parents. It wasn't uncommon for wealthy families unable to sire their own heirs to source children off-planet, particularly when those children looked human enough, and when they'd elected to chop off the child's tail, he could almost pass completely for one of them. When his human mother and father had perished, his adoptive grandfather had taken it upon himself to educate Goku on his people. The Saiyan genocide was well documented, and Bulma had assumed her friend was merely an anomaly. Now, it seemed, she was wrong. “I thought they all died?”

The young boy winced, Bulma's father seemed not to notice, or else he simply didn't care. “Almost all of them. Vegeta here was the crown prince of the Saiyans. After Lord Frieza destroyed their planet, he took the young prince as a slave. I bought him. For you.”

“For me?” It was not uncommon for her father to return from business trips with lavish presents, but they usually consisted of exotic sweets, beautiful clothes, or rare creatures to house in the menagerie. They didn't typically involve child-slaves.

“I know it must get lonely for you here. Vegeta is lonely too, and now you have one another,” Doctor Briefs placed a hand on the boy’s head, and Bulma felt a pang of pity wiggle and worm in her stomach when Vegeta instinctively cowered. “You're going to be family now. I won’t always be around, so you need to take care of each other.”

The two children stared at one another for a moment, Vegeta's mouth pressed into a thin, hard line, Bulma's head cocked to one side like a curious spaniel. Her father was right; she spent much of her time alone. Though she had friends, all of noble families, of course, her interactions with them were few and far between. With her father constantly away with his business, she was often left to her own devices, with only the servants – a giant Namekian who went by the name 'Piccolo', and an android rather bizarrely called 'Eighteen' – for company.

Perhaps Vegeta would make a good companion, although he definitely needed to change his attire. He was in rags, torn blue pants and scuffed boots she presumed were once white. Her father's jacket was draped loosely over his shoulders, and it was then she noticed he was shivering. 

A lightbulb went off in her head, and Bulma grinned.

“You need a hot bath, you're simply filthy.” Bulma said, crooking her fingers. The boy’s lips pursed at the idea of bowing to her whim, but he remained cautious and careful – as though he anticipated negative repercussions should he object. “It will help warm your bones too, isn't that right, Father? I always have a hot bath when I'm feeling cold.”

Doctor Briefs smiled kindly, his fingers scratching the child’s scalp gently. Vegeta’s tail wagged slightly at the contact, and Bulma made a mental note to test out _that_ later, when the boy was less grubby. “Yes, that's right dear.” Returning his focus to Vegeta, he added, “It's okay, child. Go with her, she'll look after you.” 

With her father's approval, Bulma outstretched her hand for the boy to take. His scowl deepened, but he followed her obediently, slotting his filthy fingers between hers. His skin was rough, fingertips charred from what Bulma presumed was ki use – so similar to the hardened callouses that the noble children with such abilities had acquired over time – though she didn’t dare ask.

She tugged him gently towards the closest washroom, babbling about the other children of nobility. _Yamcha, Goku, Chi Chi, Krillin..._ He showed minor signs of interest when she mentioned that Goku was also of Saiyan heritage, his eyes widening a fraction and lips falling apart, but whatever thoughts were whirling in his little head remained unsaid.

Vegeta simply trailed along behind her mutely, his eyes darting about the winding halls of Capsule Corporation uneasily, pupils pinpricks. He remained that way as she filled the tub, so anxious, so closed off. Stayed silent when he undressed, though his cheeks did redden when he realised that Bulma would be remained despite his nudity, and climbed in.

Mostly, he washed himself as Bulma prattled on, sat on the side of the tub, not actually paying him much attention, too lost in her own world as she prattled on less to him and more to herself. But when he reached for a bottle of shampoo, looking a little overwhelmed and confused as he tried to decipher the label, she stopped him with a gentle touch to his wrist.

“Here, let me help,” she offered. The other child tensed, lifting his gaze to regard her for a moment, before he finally conceded and nodded.

Bulma poured a little of the liquid into her hand, lathering it up slightly before she moved towards his scalp. Her little hands worked the shampoo into his hair, and he relaxed into the touch; his tail going limp in the rapidly darkening water, his toes curling and curling. Bulma swore that if she strained her ears she could _almost_ hear a little purr, like that of her father’s cat, emanating from within the boy’s chest, but she decided against probing him about it for now.

Instead she focused on ridding his hair of kami-only-knew how many months of neglect and dirt, allowing him the privilege of using her favourite strawberry scented products. He was filthy, the white foam already turning an unpleasant shade of brown, and the sleeves of her dress were heavy with water, but she didn't seem to mind.

There were many questions on the tip of her tongue, curiosity demanding to know how he’d met her father, what the evil Lord Frieza was like in person, whether it was true Saiyans turned into giant apes during a full moon (or whether Goku and his grandfather had simply been pulling her leg), but she resisted asking. She suspected that the boy would not answer her now, and if she pushed at him too hard now, perhaps he never would.

“Thank you.”

It was little more than a whisper, gruff and low, but it sent a little thrill through the girl, as though she’d uncovered some ancient secret, and not just pulled two simple words from her new companion. Suddenly she felt so much less alone, her tiny world suddenly slightly bigger. She ruffled the boys head beneath her foamy fingertips, and much like it had done with her father, the boy’s tail twitched happily in the water.

“You're welcome.”


End file.
